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Warning: This story has descriptions of demons and giant spiders.
Viewer description is advised.
THROUGH THE FISSURE
CHAPTER ONE: WILBUR
One cold, snowy night, a small baby in a potato sack was left on the steps of an orphanage.
There was no name tag, no nothing.
Nothing to identify who this little person was.
His parents, whoever they were, were too poor to properly care for their infant son, and decided to leave him to be taken into an orphanage.
This was relatively common in 19th century London, as so many people were suffering and starving.
Though, sadly, no place could provide a worse beginning to life than this particular orphanage.
One of the orphanage children heard the baby crying while they were dusting the doorway, and brought the child inside.
“Hey, Millicent, look. We’ve got another one.”
Millicent, the oldest and sort of the leader, sighed.
“Oh dear. Well, does it have a name tag?”
“No.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Uhhhh…” Droned the child, having a quick peek,
“It’s a boy.”
There was a pause as the 8 orphanage children packed into the one bedroom and thought up a name.
“H-h-how a-about -A-A-A-Archibald?” Suggested a stuttering little boy, clutching a grubby pillow like his life depended on it.
“BLUURK!!” Went the baby, throwing up.
“Definitely not Archibald.” Muttered Millicent.
“Caspian?” Somebody said.
“What?!”
(This is a funny joke because the name “Caspian” had only been coined in the 21st century.)
“Ok. Well, how about Wilbur?”
Everyone looked at the baby.
The baby didn’t throw up.
And the baby was henceforth named Wilbur.
CHAPTER TWO: CRUELTY
The owner of the orphanage was a bitter old boot called Miss Mann.
The hairy woman had lost a lot of the hair on her head, but made up for it in the hair on her legs, arms, and face.
She would remind the onlooker of a gorilla crossed with a witch.
And boy, did she behave like one.
She treated the orphans terribly, giving them one little bowl of food every two days, and played horrible tricks on them.
A favourite of hers was to declare that there was a bug or a bit of dirt or something like that stuck in the spine of one of her massive hardcover books, and when the child would peer into the book to see, the old hag would slam the book shut so that the child’s nose got caught.
At Christmas, all the children would line up, and Miss Mann would pelt them with chunks of charcoal (Thankfully, it wasn’t fresh out f the fire, because then the whole orphanage could burn down)
Wilbur suffered all this and more.
He yearned so much to be completely free, out on the streets, doing whatever he wanted.
He decided that he was going to get his freedom. Some day, somehow…
Wilbur walked into the bedroom after a long day of chores. He was tired and hungry.
He snatched a smaller kid’s bowl.
The poor child was too frail and weak to fight back.
Wilbur sat down and ate.
Everybody else in the room stared at him in exasperation. Please, their expressions said.
Please stop.
Wilbur yawned and tucked in. He had felt terrible the first time he did this, but over time he had hardened and stopped caring too much.
A rather large brown spider, a huntsman to be exact, crawled across the ceiling.
It descended down from the ceiling with a trail of silk.
Wilbur reared back in disgust and flicked it halfway across the room where it landed with a plop! in some poor child’s bowl of stinking soup.
Suddenly, Miss Mann burst in.
“YOU!!” She screeched, jabbing a finger at Wilbur.
“COME WITH ME!!” She grabbed Wilbur’s hair and yanked it so he stood up.
She quite literally pulled him by the hair to her bedroom.
“YOU CALL THIS PLACE DUSTED?!?!?!” She roared, her cheeks red.
Wilbur looked around the room.
The room looked like an explosion in a flour factory, even though he had cleaned it earlier.
“Ummm…no?”
“INDEED!! I WANT YOU TO CLEAN THIS ROOM TEN TIMES OVER UNTIL YOU’VE DONE IT TEN TIMES OVER!!!!” Yelled Miss Mann.
Then she stalked out, going off to make somebody else’s life a misery.
As soon as Miss Mann was gone, Wilbur went right over to the tiny window in her room and resumed chipping at it.
It created massive amounts of dust all over the floor.
Which was why it was so dusty in the first place.
Finally, Wilbur created a big enough hole for him to climb through.
But not just yet.
He rushed back into the dorms and grabbed a very large, very smelly metal bucket, full of dust, water, the sloppy, disgusting soup that the orphans were forced to eat and just general muck from around the place.
He ran back into Miss Mann’s room.
“Miss Mann! Come quickly!”
The old woman pushed open the door.
“What do you wa-“
Her sentence was cut short by a wave of disgustingness that engulfed her.
“AAARGH!”
Wilbur leapt out of the window and landed head-first in a dumpster.
Lovely.
He jumped out, and made his escape into the cool night air.
He had done it.
He was free.
CHAPTER THREE: FREEDOM
Considering how vain and bitter Miss Mann was, Wilbur thought that she would chase him, so he ran as far away from the orphanage as possible.
He ran and ran and ran, and as he ran, the feeling of worry that Miss Mann would give chase faded away. He was free.
But then, when he was too puffed to go on and came to his senses a bit, everything around him was unfamiliar.
The buildings towered over him, and the dark alleys loomed threateningly, as if they would suddenly lunge forward and gobble him up.
His joy melted like an ice block dropped on the pavement, and he curled up into a ball where he was.
Suddenly, he heard voices, and the light thudding of shoes.
His heart leapt into his throat.
It must be Miss Mann.
Wilbur leapt into the air as if electrocuted and took off.
He couldn’t run for long, and he didn’t.
He had to hide.
There was a big, dark hole, with steps going down it.
It loomed at him, like a giant, gaping mouth, waiting for something to fall in.
Wilbur shuddered. But then he remembered Miss Mann and the beatings and the starvation and the work.
He jumped down the hole.
The hole was connected to a network of tunnels that were supported with wooden posts.
He even came across burnt-out lanterns and rickety railways as well.
He didn’t know it, but this was an abandoned mineshaft.
The mineshaft was cold and dark, and Wilbur was creeped out of his wits.
He sat down for a while.
Maybe Miss Mann would have gone by now.
Yes, probably.
Or…
SHE COULD BE SILENTLY CLOSING IN ON HIM AT THIS VERY MOMENT!!
Wilbur jumped up and ran.
Stumbling and panicking in the dark.
CLANK!!
What was that?
A falling pickaxe?
Good.
Go.
This went on for quite a while until he tripped over a railroad, and fell flat on his face.
He curled up into a ball and huddled in a corner.
He had no idea where he was.
He was lost underground.
CHAPTER FOUR: LOST
Wilbur sat in silence for a while. He almost longed for the rooms of the orphanage.
Sure, he was treated horribly, but at least he got food.
Almost anything was preferable to knowing that he would starve to death down here alone, in the dark, completely alone.
Suddenly, he heard a faint humming noise.
Not like a person humming a tune, but a sort of humming, whirring, mechanical sound.
He got up and followed his ears. Perhaps the humming noise lead to a way out.
Eventually, he came to a dead end.
But there was something in front of the dead end.
And that something scared the daylights out of Wilbur.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE FISSURE
It was a giant crack, just floating in the air.
It seemed to be leaking out some sort of glowing reddish-brownish-bluish material.
It flickered and shuddered, like it was a picture on the screen of a glitchy computer.
It seemed… out of place, like it wasn’t meant to be there, like vegetables on a birthday cake.
Almost otherworldly, like a big fissure in between dimensions.
It called to Wilbur, like a song.
As he crept closer, he noticed that on the other side of the fissure, there was another land.
It was disoriented by the weird glowing stuff leaking out of it, but Wilbur could make out that it was a largely flat world.
He reached out and touched the stuff leaking out of it.
He couldn’t feel anything, apart from a slight numbing in his hand.
Odd, thought Wilbur as he took a step closer, and stuck his whole arm through the hole.
This would prove to be a big mistake.
Within about half a second, the glowy stuff leapt out of the fissure and engulfed Wilbur completely, and then pulled him into the crack.
Everything was red.
And then blue.
And then green.
And then a colour that has never been seen by human eyes.
The world was a mishmash of disoriented images and disembodied sounds.
His body rippled and twisted and stretched.
He watched as his arm grow, his hand kilometres away, before it retracted and drilled him in the face like a rogue soccer ball.
Everything flashed and scrunched up and roared all around him, until everything stopped.
CHAPTER SIX: ANOTHER LAND
Wilbur awoke yelling his head off.
He jumped up and looked down.
His body was back to normal.
Gone was the infinite kaleidoscope of weirdness, but the place Wilbur found himself in was possibly even more disturbing than that.
He was in a barren land with a completely grey sky.
The landscape was almost completely flat, with only a few small hills.
The ground was carpeted in some sort of wiry, beige grass that swayed in the wind like seaweed underwater.
The occasional tree dotted the sparse landscape, and Wilbur swore that he could see them moving out of the corner of his eye.
The wind rasped like a dehydrated snake.
It seemed like the definition of an unsettling music sting.
Not a big fan of unsettling music stings, Wilbur began to panic.
Where was he?
How had he gotten here?
Is this another horrible trick played by Miss Mann?
Eventually, Wilbur mustered up enough bravery to speak.
He was big for his age. He was strong.
He wrestled with Miss Mann once, and nearly won.
He liked squashing things smaller than him.
Things bigger than him were afraid of him.
“Show yourself!” He squeaked, highly disappointing himself.
He drew in a deep breath and yelled,
“I said, show yourself!!”
His voice echoed around the surrounding emptiness.
“Show yourself now! I know you’re there!! I know SOMETHING is there!”
Still nothing but the reply of his echo.
“Arrrghh!” He seethed in frustration.
He pulled huge clumps of grass out with his hands, and hurled it as far away as he could.
His outburst went on for quite a while, until he pulled up a clump of grass that had a creature attached to it.
The creature’s skin was like raw ginger, and in was shaped like a crab.
It hung there, staring at Wilbur, who was also staring in absolute shock.
The crab-root-plant thing hissed, and tried to pinch Wilbur with its claws.
Wilbur dropped it and and crumpled to the floor, unconscious once again.
CHAPTER SEVEN: TSK, TSK, TSK
Wilbur awoke to a rapid little clicking noise, like a mix of somebody rubbing their dry hands together and clicking their tongue.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Wilbur sat up and looked around.
It was evening, or whatever you would call it in this strange world, and the clouds were turning purple.
The crab-root-plant thing was gone too.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Wilbur looked behind himself to the source of the sound.
An enormous huntsman spider, about the size of a grand piano, its legs as thick as tree branches, was sitting sitting behind him, staring.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Wilbur screamed and jumped up. Movement and thought left him, and he just stood there, in a mixture of shock, confusion, and absolute fear.
Wilbur had squashed so many spiders and insects back at the orphanage that he lost count, but he guessed around a million and a half, and for a second he thought that the spider was here to punish him for what he did.
But this was no ordinary spider.
It wore four monocles that looked like they were rimmed with gold, a navy blue checked coat, and a bowler hat.
It had 6 legs that were firmly on the ground, and two others which were clutching some sort of staff or walking stick encrusted with crystals.
It also had a very glittery spark in its eyes.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, It said.
“What were you doing, you foolish delinquent, ripping up the grass like that?”
It had a very deep, manly voice, and spoke with almost an echo. “Well? Hmmm?”
Wilbur stared at it in horror for a few more seconds and then shook his head in disgust. He was imagining things.
He turned and picked up a large rock from the ground, and hefted it high above his head.
The spider did not panic, try to scuttle away, or show any fear whatsoever.
It just stared at him with a look that said, “You can’t be serious.”
Wilbur hurled the rock at the spider.
Within a split second, the spider raised one of its legs, and the moment the rock touched it, it shattered, sending chunks of rock flying everywhere.
Some of those chunks hit Wilbur, and he felt it loud and clear. That settled it. This was not a hallucination.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Bad child. Bad. Do not throw rocks at me.”
It jumped up and scuttled towards a large hole in the ground.
It paused and looked back up at Wilbur.
“Are you coming, or what?”
Wilbur reared back.
“What?! Nuh-uh. I am not following a spider wearing clothes into a gaping hole in the ground. Where does it even lead to?”
He tried to kick the spider, and succeeded, but the spider didn’t ever react.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The spider sighed, as if Wilbur hadn’t reached his expectations, and disappeared into the hole.
“W-wait!” Cried Wilbur.
He looked around at his surroundings again.
It was almost completely dark now, and the wind whistled softly through the grasses, creating a long, wheezy moan.
Something rustled in the grasses.
Wilbur spun around, expecting something to leap out onto him, but nothing happened.
A purring sound rang out. But not the sort of purring you would get from a domestic cat when you scratch its tummy in just the right way, but the sort of purring from a tiger that had just seen its prey take the bait of a trap without hesitation.
The grass rustled again.
“H-help!” Yelped Wilbur.
“Come. Tsk tsk tsk.” Whispered a voice as something grabbed him and yanked him down the hole.
CHAPTER EIGHT: MARGO
Wilbur looked around and found himself in a hollowed-out underground room.
It was actually rather spacious, with the ceiling being a good 2.5 metres high, and a nice, wide living space.
The walls (if there were any walls) were mostly obscured by bookshelves that were brimming with hardcovers, paperbacks and a few journals.
The ground was covered in a spongey carpet, which, under closer inspection, proved to be moss.
There was also the tunnel to the outside world, and another tunnel that presumably led to another room.
In the middle of the room, there were two long sofas that looked almost completely new.
In fact, everything looked freshly dusted and polished.
“Tsk tsk. Come. Sitsk. Sorry, sit.” Said the spider.
Wilbur cautiously checked under the couch cushions for something like a spring or something else that Miss Mann would put under there, but was surprised to find nothing.
“Tsk. My name is Margo Spyder.” Said the spider somewhat warmly.
“Your name is mango spider? What a stupid name.” Sniffed Wilbur.
Margo frowned. In one move, he leapt off the sofa he was on and scuttled over at alarming speed to Wilbur.
“My name is Margo Spyder. With a Y.”
Wilbur shrugged, trying desperately to pretend he wasn’t intimidated by the giant spider scowling at him, and failing.
“Suit yourself.”
Margo crawled back over to the sofa and buried his head in a book.
“Name’s Wilbur.” He added somewhat meekly.
Margo blinked.
“Um…Hey. How…did you make that rock explode?”
“The one that you…Tsk…threw at me?”
“Yep! That’s the one.”
Margo, without looking up from his book, grabbed his staff and tapped it on the ground twice.
Wilbur shot up a good 3 metres and banged his head on the ceiling.
“Woah! What? What just happened?!” Panicked Wilbur.
Margo tapped his stick another time, and Wilbur shrunk back to his original height.
“Woah.” He breathed, staring at Margo in amazement.
This creature possessed an awesome power.
“Hmmmm.” Droned Margo as he crawled into a tunnel to a seperate room.
Wilbur followed him, expecting another old fashioned room, but was instead completely blown away.
The room had white, concrete walls, and there were these strange moving paintings and gadgets and even a few test tubes and bubbling mixtures.
Wilbur, who was living in the victorian era, had no idea that they were computers.
Margo dashed over to one of the computers, typed a few commands in and frowned.
“Hmmm.” He muttered.
“The Arachnid Collective meeting is in 10 minutes.”
“The what?” Asked Wilbur.
Margo turned around and studied Wilbur for a while.
“You are…not an Arachnid. You must wait outside.”
Wilbur was confused.
“Where am I going? Why can’t I attend the meeting? Stupid Spider! Answer me!”
Margo tapped a button on the computer keyboard, and suddenly a bright flash lit up the entire room, and then subsided as quickly as it came.
CHAPTER NINE: ARACHNID COLLECTIVE
“What was that?!” Screamed Wilbur.
“Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk.” Clicked Margo, as if giggling.
“Are you laughing at me, eight-legs?!”
Wilbur followed Margo out of the room and looked around in shock.
Instead of the cosy living room that he came from, Wilbur was in a massive cavern, with theatrical chandeliers hanging from a bunch of stalactites.
In there middle there was a large round table with a number of spiders and a number of scorpions. (Not that Wilbur knew what scorpions were, having grown up in London)
They all started hissing in some language that was incomprehensible to any eavesdropping human child, much to the frustration of Wilbur, who was leaning against the door and still fuming that he couldn’t attend the meeting. It was just like back at the orphanage. Miss Mann never let him be in any of the meetings with fat officials in black coats where she kissed butts and pretended that she loved the orphans she treated so terribly.
But then again, she didn’t let any of the other kids be there either, but Wilbur didn’t care. They could stay in the orphanage for all he cared.
But at least Miss Mann spoke English, so Wilbur could eavesdrop and get all the information he needed.
But these bloody spiders and whatever the heck those things were (Wilbur had never heard of scorpions, let alone seen one)
were talking in their own language.
At least, that’s what he thought initially. He realised that the arachnid language was sort of like a hissy, mangled version of English.
He could barely understand it, but what Wilbur picked up chilled him to the bone.
“Margo…the…child…”
“Tsk tsk tsk…”
“Tasty yum-yum…”
“Must…eat…”
“…………”
Wilbur almost screamed in both rage and fear. That ruthless trickster! That damn spider was so kind to him at first…but he was actually trying to eat him!
Desperately, he rushed over to the computer.
On the screen it said, Teleport ready. Press flashing button to activate.
Having grown up an orphan, Wilbur had no idea how to read, but luckily there was a picture of a spider pressing a button and being teleported back to Margo’s place, so Wilbur knew more or less what to do.
He pressed the button and was whisked away, unknowingly running away from his destiny, his redemption and him being the saviour of an entire universe, for alas, the Arachnid Collective did not plan to eat Wilbur.
“Margo…Certain, you are, about the child?”
“Tsk tsk tsk. Yes, I am.”
“The flipped version, he is?”
“Tsk. Yes, he is. I am sure of it. We must not let…him…realise what his alternate is here, and we must also hide the truth from the child, otherwise he could run away, and all life will vanish.”
“I would never be able to taste a tasty yum yum fly ever again if I died!”
“Tsk tsk. Calm down.”
“Worried I still am though, about the child. Our only hope, he is.”
“Well, we can mull it over while we eat. Bring out the banquet of roasted flies!”
CHAPTER TEN: RUNAWAY
Wilbur shot out of the hole like a rocket, trying not to think about the monster he almost encountered earlier.
It was fully nighttime, or whatever you would call it in this ridiculous world full of giant man-eating bugs.
Wilbur was mainly used to squashing bugs, and he was quite shaken.
The moon was shaped like a massive splat of who-knows-what, and it softly glowed a greenish-yellowish colour as little bits of light dripped down onto the world below as if the splat-moon was melting.
The grass had seemed to grow with the moon, and it came up to his shoulders.
He ran as far away from the hole so when the spiders and bugs worked out that he had escaped, they wouldn’t know where he went.
When his breath ran out, Wilbur tried to crouch low into the grass, but it didn’t really help, so he decided to climb a tree.
Growing up in a ramshackle brick building, he did not have much to practice on, but he found it surprisingly easy.
Meanwhile, back at the hole, the Arachnid Collective had just finished their banquet of roasted flies and where heading their seperate ways.
“S-s-sayy, M-m-Margo, w-where is the ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-child?”
Margo’s grin disappeared like cupcakes at an elephant’s party.
Or, more relevantly, roasted flies at a spider meeting.
He sprinted to the magical teleporting room he came from, and sure enough, Wilbur was gone.
“TSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSKKKK!!!!!!” Yelled Margo in despair as he pounded the keyboard and teleported back to his den.
He turned the place upside down looking for Wilbur (Quite literally: He used magic to shift the gravity inside his house upwards)
but to no avail.
With no time to waste, Margo scuttled out of the hole and followed the trail of flattened grass that Wilbur had carelessly left in his wake.
At the same time, Wilbur began settling into his tree. It looked—and was— the easiest thing you could ever climb.
It was almost as if the tree wanted Wilbur to climb it.
“Well, that’s a first. At least something in this stupid place actually cares about me.” Sulked Wilbur.
And that was when the tree curled up its branches and swallowed him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: DARKNESS FALLS
“Let me out. Let me ouuut!” Wailed Wilbur, slightly muffled inside the tree.
The tree had made a cage of sorts around him, and all he could see was pitch black.
A nearby voice began cackling its head off.
It was very robotic and stiff, and made Wilbur shiver.
Mustering up all his courage, Wilbur yelled,
“Show yourself!”
The branches parted slightly with a creak, and light streamed into Wilbur’s little room.
A horrible, metal skeleton with wires crisscrossing all over it poked its head through one of the cracks and leered at Wilbur.
It twitched and gave sparks randomly, as if it was malfunctioning and completely unstable.
“I didn’t realise that capturing you would be so easy.” It said monotonously without moving its mouth.
Wilbur lurched back and started trying to wriggle through the gaps of the tree-cage.
He succeeded.
The metal skeleton watched Wilbur run away and sighed.
“What a shame. I was hoping more of a challenge. But no, you are just a pathetic, grotty child.”
It made a short, sharp whistle and a terrifying, mechanical creature appeared at its side. It was a metal skeleton with wires sticking out all over the place, like its master, but it was huge, about 2 metres tall, and it had very long, very thick arms that were about twice the length of its body with razor-sharp rusted talons.
It had a human-looking skull, but with gruesome-looking fangs instead of teeth.
The skeleton-man whistled again and pointed at Wilbur, and the skeleton-monster went berserk.
It lashed out with its fearsome claws, swiping at Wilbur, only just managing to lunge out of the way before getting sliced.
Eventually, Wilbur didn’t duck fast enough and was snatched up.
The monster opened its mouth and slowly lowered Wilbur down into the sparking depths of the beast’s metal belly.
“Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha.” Laughed the cyborg master.
If you could call it that.
Margo was still scuttling along the path of flattened grass when he heard roars, screams and monotonous laughing.
As he cleared a rolling hill, he froze.
There was a giant metal cyborg monster about to eat the child who could save the multiverse.
Margo bolted over and bodyslammed the creature, causing it to drop Wilbur and fly into a weird-looking nearby tree.
“Margo!” Said Wilbur, happy to see the giant spider for once.
“Tsk tsk. Idiot. Don’t you dare run away again.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Suddenly, the mechanical terror leapt and crash-tackled Margo.
And so a furious battle began.
Margo had eight legs, and had magic on his size, but the mech had those horrible claws and sharp teeth that could rip one of Margo’s legs off.
“Wilbur. Take out Grinder, the other metal skeleton. Its controling this thing—ugh!”
Grinder, for that was its name, recoiled at this and looked at Wilbur in alarm.
Wilbur stared at the metal skeleton and tried to look intimidating.
It was skinny and gangly, and Wilbur was big and strong.
It didn’t look so tough.
But it wasn’t finished yet.
It garbled malevolently and jumped into the air, slamming its foot on the ground like the world’s crankiest toddler.
A gaping crack appeared in the ground between Wilbur and grinder. It looked like it went down for miles.
“Jump. Wilbur.” Yelled Margo desperately as he was pummelled by the mechanical monstrosity.
“I can’t!” He called back. The rift was getting wider and wider. The more Wilbur hesitated, the bigger it seemed to get.
“GO!” Bellowed the spider.
Wilbur gritted his teeth and jumped.
He cleared the rift by a good half a metre and landed smack bang on Grinder.
Quick as a flash, Wilbur grabbed a handful of wires and ripped them out.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh…” Screamed the skeleton flatly as it fizzed, sparked and died.
The mechanical beast Margo was battling flipped onto its back and began throwing sparks and waving its limbs and claws in the air like a dying insect.
Margo threw a swift punch to its head, which then caved in and the beast stopped wriggling.
“Tsk tsk tsk tsk. You. Did. It. Wilbur.” Said the spider.
“No. We did it.”
And for the first time ever, Wilbur saw another person in his life as a friend.
CHAPTER TWELVE: HIM
A few minutes later, the entire Arachnid Collective had caught up with Margo.
One of them, a giant scorpion, in a green plaid suit, surveyed the scene.
“Hmmmmm. L-l-looks l-like w-w-we missed all the f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-fun.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Muttered Wilbur.
Margo turned to Wilbur.
“Tsk. It seems, Wilbur, that we owe you an apology. We kept the truth from you at first, because we were afraid that you would be daunted by the responsibility and run off.”
Wilbur snorted, but not angrily, more in amusement.
“Well, that didn’t work. I overheard a part of your conversation. I thought you were going to try to eat me…”
Wilbur’s voice trailed off as he looked around him in horror as he remembered what they said.
“You’re not, are you?!” He asked in panic.
“What?! No!” Cried the scorpion.
Wilbur calmed himself with logic. If they were going to eat him, now would be a perfect time, because he is tired, injured, and surrounded.
But still, he decided to watch his back around them.
“More to the point, what was THAT?!” He yelled, pointing at the smoking metal skeleton lying on the grass a few metres away.
The scorpion sighed and took a deep breath.
“That, my boy, was Grinder. Grinder is one of…his…mercenaries.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Asked Wilbur.
The Arachnids looked at eachother and nodded at eachother silently.
“‘He’ Is a demon who plans to destroy us and any other creature in the multiverse who opposes him.”
He let this sink in.
“Many years ago, we managed to defeat and corner him. But, being the extremely sore loser he is, he used massive amounts of black magic to vanish into the depths of the multiverse.
As a part of the magic that resides in everything, he began creating a rift in between our universe and your universe. Only then did we discover that there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of different universes.
“We also realised that the longer…he…was a part of the fundamentals of the multiverse, the more he gained control of it.
Already the rift has widened by about a metre, and we have noticed differences and distortion in the way our universe operates.
“We knew if we left this long enough he would come to control the entire multiverse, so we knew how to stop it, but we didn’t know how. Until we found a chink in his armour. Only one week ago, Margo here experienced a vision where he told us to give up and take cover, as the end was about to occur. But then he made a critical error. He said that no amount of magic would ever be able to stop him. But he revealed more than he realised. By saying that, we realised that he quite literally gave us the answer—only a non-magical being could stop him and save the multiverse. Unfortunately though, no creature in our universe is non-magical, so we knew that we somehow had to lure a non-magical creature from another universe. So we reached through and contacted you on a magical level, and lured you here.”
Margo felt a bit bad lying to Wilbur, but he knew it was for the best.
Wilbur paused as he digested what Margo had told him.
“Who is ‘him’? Does he have a name?”
There was a pause.
“Probably.” Piped up a bored-looking house spider at the back.
“But we don’t know it. His mercenaries just call him ‘His darkness.’
And it’s not like he’s introduced himself properly.”
“And…I’m supposed to defeat him? A freaking demon? All by myself?!” Spluttered Wilbur.
“No! Tsk tsk tsk. Of course not! You’ll have us.” Said Margo, gesturing around him at the spiders and scorpions.
“Uh…How many more…creepy guys like that weird robot guy does he have?”
The spiders shrugged with all four shoulders and the scorpions scratched their heads.
“We dunno.”
Wilbur sighed.
“Could you at least tell me you have a plan?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“It depends on wether or not you’ll get angry if we say we don’t.”
Wilbur sighed.
“Well, we do have something…” Began Margo.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BATTLE ROYALE
“CHARGE!” Bellowed Wilbur, holding an enchanted cutlass and leading a small group of spiders and scorpions (Including Margo) toward a looming fortress.
The fortress was an ashy black all over, with vibrant flashes of rainbow-coloured light leaking through the gaps in the brickwork.
Distorted, ugly disco music rang out, echoing about the hills.
It looked and sounded terrifying, and Wilbur was terrified, but he knew he would have to stay confident if it was to work.
The bored-looking house spider (Who actually looked quite nervous now) summoned a fireball and hurled it at the towering wall of the fortress.
The fireball slammed against the bricks, but unfortunately, it did not do anything more than to alert all the creatures inside they were under attack.
The terrible disco music stopped, and Wilbur heard a few glasses of who-knows-what smash to the floor.
There was silence.
Suddenly, right where the fireball had hit, a hatch swung open.
A yellow, reptilian eye on the end of a very long stalk poked out and gave the small group below a very dirty look.
The house spider threw another fireball and the creature disappeared.
For a few seconds, there was silence, and it was deafening.
Finally, a mid-sized section of the wall came crashing down and out came a crowd of strange and terrible creatures.
Wilbur and the Arachnids and the terrible creatures commenced with a battle that shook the land around them, scorched the grass underneath them and left bodies strewn over the battlefield.
Fireballs exploded like thunderclaps.
Lightning lit up the sky.
And Arachnids and creatures alike screamed in pain.
Amidst all the chaos, Wilbur managed to sneak past and into the fortress. It was dark and sweaty in there, and it reeked of some horrible drug or drink that the monsters were obviously binging on. Looking back to the battlefield, he noticed that a few of the enemies looked unsteady and a bit wobbly.
Something in that castle made Wilbur’s heartbeat quicken, and he felt like screaming his head off. He felt flustered, desperate and angry all at the same time.
There was something entirely unnatural happening in that fortress.
He rounded a corner, and this time he actually did scream.
There was a big, fat floating ball about the size of a melon just sitting there, slowly bobbing up and down. It had stalks growing all over it with little growths that looked like mould on the end of them, and Wilbur had nearly run smack bang right into it.
At the sound of Wilbur’s scream, it spun around.
It had one humongous eyeball at the centre of its face, and that was it.
Wilbur quickly flattened himself against the wall so that it wouldn’t see him.
But then, a very peculiar thing happened.
It closed its eye, but when it opened it again, the eyeball had turned into a nasty, hooked nose!
It sniffed the air like a bloodhound.
Wilbur’s heart was almost crawling up his throat. Probably the most scary feeling of all was being in the most pathetic hiding spot and knowing that a monster is trying to find you.
Eventually, it found him.
Wilbur yelped and punched the monster right in the eye/nose, who screeched and reeled back.
Wilbur shoved past in and bolted down the corridor…
Causing the floor to fall down beneath his feet and sending him plunging down, down, into darkness.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: FINALE
When Wilbur came to, he was chained by the wrists and ankles to what felt like a cold, grotty piece of metal.
He was in a dark, damp and humid room, completely surrounded by dark red bricks.
Wilbur looked up and, lo and behold, was the fissure.
In the time that had passed it seemed like it had grown and changed colour, like an open cut weeping and swollen with infections.
The demon was coming closer and closer to ultimate domination.
“Master-r-r-r, I have brought-t-t you the child-d-d-d.” Garbled the voice of that strange, ball-like creature with the multi-use eye.
The fissure rumbled, hissed, and spat like some especially rude sausages frying in a pan.
The swirling colours inside it formed something that could almost be called a face.
It had two pure red eyes, and a wide, bloody mouth with jagged, mismatched teeth.
“Gooooooood…” It said. Its voice was extremely loud, and filled the air all around it like thunderclaps.
Wilbur tried to cover his ears, but he couldn’t because he in chains.
“Vvvvery good. Now, get lost.” The floating ball quickly floated out. It was evident it was just as terrified of the demon as Wilbur was.
Although…there was something familiar about its voice.
Had he heard it before?
In my nightmares, maybe. Thought Wilbur sullenly.
The face in the fissure cackled, and everything around it was engulfed in blinding white light.
Suddenly, Wilbur was standing up. His chains had simply disappeared.
The fissure had gone a deep inky black, like it was glowing darkness.
Somewhere in the distance, Wilbur could hear a mechanical humming sound.
Other than himself, the weird humming sound and the silhouette of the fissure, Wilbur was completely alone in a void of white nothingness.
At the sound of footsteps he jerked up, and scanned the surrounding area.
The fissure had morphed into a figure, still silhouetted.
It was short, about the same size and stature of Wilbur.
It stopped.
The darkness of the silhouette dissolved, and Wilbur reared back in shock, for the person standing right in front of him was…
Himself.
It was exactly the same as Wilbur in every shape and from, except that his irises (the colourful bit of the eye) were a deep, burning, crimson red, and it wore elegant, black robes instead of tattered, unwashed clothes that probably used to be flour sacks.
Wilbur’s breath was whisked away from him.
“What…Are…You?” Wilbur managed to gasp out in horror.
“I AM you.” Responded the demon simply.
“I am the mirrored version of yourself. Unlike you, I grew up in a wealthy mansion, with parents who trained me to be the marvellous creature I am now. I grew up cherished, and I did not have to do a single thing for myself.”
Wilbur was screaming inside his head.
Why did THIS horrible thing get loved and cherished? Why not HIM?! All HE got to do was constantly work, work, work, be yelled at, beaten, starved and ordered to do more work.
“But,” Continued the demon, “You still have a chance. I am so generous, in fact, another by-product of my upbringing, that I am giving one to you.”
He flicked his hand and out of the void, a door appeared.
It didn’t seem to have any description to apply to it, it was just a door, like it was an abstract, half-forgotten thought in somebody’s mind.
Wilbur found himself inching closer and closer.
“Open it.” Hissed the demon.
Wilbur got ever closer until the tip of his nose was brushing against the door.
“I said OPEN IT!!” Screeched the demon, shivering a little.
Wilbur opened it, and inside was one of the most delighting sights Wilbur had ever seen in his life.
There was a gleaming kitchen with ornaments, flowers and the sweet smell of some kind of delicious meal wafting through it.
There were no bloody knives.
No grot.
No rats scampering about the place licking the bloody knives.
It was perfect.
And no ugly old boot shuffling around in there tapping a rolling pin against her hand like she wanted to murder someone with it.
And then it got even better.
“Wilbur!” Called a rather pretty woman. “Dinner time!”
That must be my mother. Thought Wilbur without even realising it.
He had fallen into a happy, almost thoughtless stupor.
“Wilbur!” Cried a rather handsome man, walking into the kitchen.
That must be my father. Thought Wilbur again.
He smiled and laughed softly, descending deeper and deeper into the illusion.
“Where is that boy?” Asked Wilbur’s mother.
The father shrugged. “Perhaps he’s upstairs playing with his toys.”
Upstairs! Toys! Wilbur almost fainted with delight.
It was almost too perfect to be true.
And this was when Wilbur snapped out of it and realised that it was.
“NO!” Yelled Wilbur, eyes wide in panic.
“This is wrong. It can’t be real!”
Wilbur turned around to see the demon standing there with its eyes shut and holding out its hand. A funny-looking trail of mist was streaming out of it. Wilbur followed it with his eyes. The mist expanded and coloured itself in to create the pictures that made up the scene before him.
Wilbur, beyond words by now, exclaimed in rage and slammed the door shut, catching the demon’s fingers in it.
The demon made a noise louder than Wilbur had ever thought possible, and began making the most horrific, inhuman, rasping, strangled screeches as it writhed around on the floor.
Aha! Though Wilbur.
If I can hurt it by slamming its fingers in the door, then I must be able to destroy it!
Just as it began to stand up, Wilbur crash-tackled it to the ground.
And so, a furious brawl began.
They rolled around on the ground, punching and strangling eachother.
The doorway that Wilbur had almost been lured into no longer showed a lovely kitchen and loving parents, but the edge of a charred cliff where a sea of lava churned beneath it.
That was the world Wilbur had almost stepped into.
As Wilbur was realising this, the demon shoved Wilbur over and onto the edge of the crumbling cliff.
“Goodbye, Multiverse’s last hope.” Growled the demon, before bursting out into shrieks of hysterical laughter.
As it reached through the doorway to close the portal, Wilbur saw his last chance.
He grabbed the demon’s arm, yanked it through the doorway and spun it toward the cliff.
It stood there wobbling for a few seconds, teetering on the edge of life and death.
Yes…YES! Thought Wilbur.
But no.
The demon balanced itself back over.
“Haha. Whew! I have to admit you almost had the jump on me there for a sec. Nice try. But FUTILE.” Snarled the demon.
And with that, the overhang of cliff that the demon was standing on promptly crumbled and dropped him into the churning sea of molten rock below him.
The demon shrieked in fury as it fell into the lava and immediately started melting.
It formed scaly, dragon-like wings and began flapping with all its might, but the lava was stickier than superglue, and it held the demon tight.
The demon continued to morph into an impossible amount of people, creatures and monsters, in a blind rage denying that it had been outwitted.
It turned into a giant troll-looking creature with tiny wings on its head, a dinosaur with two, giant gnashing heads, all the while shrieking and bellowing and roaring with all its might.
Eventually, when the noise subsided and the demon sunk down into the lava, Wilbur knew that it was finally defeated.
EPILOGUE
Wilbur sped across the pavement of a street in 19th century London, bursting with excitement.
He passed all the landmarks he had stared at, miserably looking out the window of his room in the orphanage.
“Huff…Tsk tsk…Puff…Tsk tsk…” Panted Margo, tiring slightly under the weight of Wilbur on his back.
“You…Really…Need…To…Go…On…A…Diet. Tssssk.” Gasped Margo as they screeched to a halt at their destination.
“Oh, shush.” Muttered Wilbur playfully.
A sign above them read, “OR HANAGE.”
“Or hanage?” Said Margo incredulously.
“Somebody’s taken the P! Wow, it feels like ages I haven’t been here.”
They walked up the steps, which Margo deemed “Unworthy for a spider to use” after he tumbled down them a few times and simply jumped up and over them and crashed through the doors.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Roared the unmistakable voice of Miss Mann.
Then she saw the giant spider standing amongst the remains of her door.
“AAAAUUUGGGHHHH!!”
Then she noticed Wilbur standing next to it.
“You…” She said.
“Uh-oh.” Muttered Wilbur to Margo. “Here it comes.”
“YOU!!! HAVE!!! MISSED!! ALL!! YOUR!! CHORES!!!!” Bellowed Miss Mann.
“I WANT YOU TO DO ALL OF THE CHORES YOU MISSED IN UNDER TWO HOURS!!! GET TO WOOOOORKK!!!!!!”
She screamed.
“Tsk tsk. She’s worse than you said.” Whispered Margo to Wilbur.
And with that, he leapt over to Miss Mann and pinned her to the ground.
By now, a great number of children had gathered around and were cheering as the spider lifted the bulky Miss Mann above his head, who began parading her around like she was a trophy and Margo had come first place in some gruelling competition.
“PUT ME DOOOOOOWN!” Howled the old hag.
With that, Margo promptly dropped her head-first into a chamberpot.
All the children cheered loudly, truly happy and free for the first time in their lives.
Wilbur chuckled gleefully at this old memory.
He had a long, grey flowing beard now, and lived in a grand old home.
A rather large brown spider, a huntsman to be exact, crawled across the ceiling.
It descended down from the ceiling with a trail of silk.
It landed on his hand.
Wilbur looked down at it and smiled.
The End.
(∩🌔 ͜ʖ🌔)⊃━☆ﾟ.*
Viewer description is advised.
THROUGH THE FISSURE
CHAPTER ONE: WILBUR
One cold, snowy night, a small baby in a potato sack was left on the steps of an orphanage.
There was no name tag, no nothing.
Nothing to identify who this little person was.
His parents, whoever they were, were too poor to properly care for their infant son, and decided to leave him to be taken into an orphanage.
This was relatively common in 19th century London, as so many people were suffering and starving.
Though, sadly, no place could provide a worse beginning to life than this particular orphanage.
One of the orphanage children heard the baby crying while they were dusting the doorway, and brought the child inside.
“Hey, Millicent, look. We’ve got another one.”
Millicent, the oldest and sort of the leader, sighed.
“Oh dear. Well, does it have a name tag?”
“No.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Uhhhh…” Droned the child, having a quick peek,
“It’s a boy.”
There was a pause as the 8 orphanage children packed into the one bedroom and thought up a name.
“H-h-how a-about -A-A-A-Archibald?” Suggested a stuttering little boy, clutching a grubby pillow like his life depended on it.
“BLUURK!!” Went the baby, throwing up.
“Definitely not Archibald.” Muttered Millicent.
“Caspian?” Somebody said.
“What?!”
(This is a funny joke because the name “Caspian” had only been coined in the 21st century.)
“Ok. Well, how about Wilbur?”
Everyone looked at the baby.
The baby didn’t throw up.
And the baby was henceforth named Wilbur.
CHAPTER TWO: CRUELTY
The owner of the orphanage was a bitter old boot called Miss Mann.
The hairy woman had lost a lot of the hair on her head, but made up for it in the hair on her legs, arms, and face.
She would remind the onlooker of a gorilla crossed with a witch.
And boy, did she behave like one.
She treated the orphans terribly, giving them one little bowl of food every two days, and played horrible tricks on them.
A favourite of hers was to declare that there was a bug or a bit of dirt or something like that stuck in the spine of one of her massive hardcover books, and when the child would peer into the book to see, the old hag would slam the book shut so that the child’s nose got caught.
At Christmas, all the children would line up, and Miss Mann would pelt them with chunks of charcoal (Thankfully, it wasn’t fresh out f the fire, because then the whole orphanage could burn down)
Wilbur suffered all this and more.
He yearned so much to be completely free, out on the streets, doing whatever he wanted.
He decided that he was going to get his freedom. Some day, somehow…
Wilbur walked into the bedroom after a long day of chores. He was tired and hungry.
He snatched a smaller kid’s bowl.
The poor child was too frail and weak to fight back.
Wilbur sat down and ate.
Everybody else in the room stared at him in exasperation. Please, their expressions said.
Please stop.
Wilbur yawned and tucked in. He had felt terrible the first time he did this, but over time he had hardened and stopped caring too much.
A rather large brown spider, a huntsman to be exact, crawled across the ceiling.
It descended down from the ceiling with a trail of silk.
Wilbur reared back in disgust and flicked it halfway across the room where it landed with a plop! in some poor child’s bowl of stinking soup.
Suddenly, Miss Mann burst in.
“YOU!!” She screeched, jabbing a finger at Wilbur.
“COME WITH ME!!” She grabbed Wilbur’s hair and yanked it so he stood up.
She quite literally pulled him by the hair to her bedroom.
“YOU CALL THIS PLACE DUSTED?!?!?!” She roared, her cheeks red.
Wilbur looked around the room.
The room looked like an explosion in a flour factory, even though he had cleaned it earlier.
“Ummm…no?”
“INDEED!! I WANT YOU TO CLEAN THIS ROOM TEN TIMES OVER UNTIL YOU’VE DONE IT TEN TIMES OVER!!!!” Yelled Miss Mann.
Then she stalked out, going off to make somebody else’s life a misery.
As soon as Miss Mann was gone, Wilbur went right over to the tiny window in her room and resumed chipping at it.
It created massive amounts of dust all over the floor.
Which was why it was so dusty in the first place.
Finally, Wilbur created a big enough hole for him to climb through.
But not just yet.
He rushed back into the dorms and grabbed a very large, very smelly metal bucket, full of dust, water, the sloppy, disgusting soup that the orphans were forced to eat and just general muck from around the place.
He ran back into Miss Mann’s room.
“Miss Mann! Come quickly!”
The old woman pushed open the door.
“What do you wa-“
Her sentence was cut short by a wave of disgustingness that engulfed her.
“AAARGH!”
Wilbur leapt out of the window and landed head-first in a dumpster.
Lovely.
He jumped out, and made his escape into the cool night air.
He had done it.
He was free.
CHAPTER THREE: FREEDOM
Considering how vain and bitter Miss Mann was, Wilbur thought that she would chase him, so he ran as far away from the orphanage as possible.
He ran and ran and ran, and as he ran, the feeling of worry that Miss Mann would give chase faded away. He was free.
But then, when he was too puffed to go on and came to his senses a bit, everything around him was unfamiliar.
The buildings towered over him, and the dark alleys loomed threateningly, as if they would suddenly lunge forward and gobble him up.
His joy melted like an ice block dropped on the pavement, and he curled up into a ball where he was.
Suddenly, he heard voices, and the light thudding of shoes.
His heart leapt into his throat.
It must be Miss Mann.
Wilbur leapt into the air as if electrocuted and took off.
He couldn’t run for long, and he didn’t.
He had to hide.
There was a big, dark hole, with steps going down it.
It loomed at him, like a giant, gaping mouth, waiting for something to fall in.
Wilbur shuddered. But then he remembered Miss Mann and the beatings and the starvation and the work.
He jumped down the hole.
The hole was connected to a network of tunnels that were supported with wooden posts.
He even came across burnt-out lanterns and rickety railways as well.
He didn’t know it, but this was an abandoned mineshaft.
The mineshaft was cold and dark, and Wilbur was creeped out of his wits.
He sat down for a while.
Maybe Miss Mann would have gone by now.
Yes, probably.
Or…
SHE COULD BE SILENTLY CLOSING IN ON HIM AT THIS VERY MOMENT!!
Wilbur jumped up and ran.
Stumbling and panicking in the dark.
CLANK!!
What was that?
A falling pickaxe?
Good.
Go.
This went on for quite a while until he tripped over a railroad, and fell flat on his face.
He curled up into a ball and huddled in a corner.
He had no idea where he was.
He was lost underground.
CHAPTER FOUR: LOST
Wilbur sat in silence for a while. He almost longed for the rooms of the orphanage.
Sure, he was treated horribly, but at least he got food.
Almost anything was preferable to knowing that he would starve to death down here alone, in the dark, completely alone.
Suddenly, he heard a faint humming noise.
Not like a person humming a tune, but a sort of humming, whirring, mechanical sound.
He got up and followed his ears. Perhaps the humming noise lead to a way out.
Eventually, he came to a dead end.
But there was something in front of the dead end.
And that something scared the daylights out of Wilbur.
CHAPTER FIVE: THE FISSURE
It was a giant crack, just floating in the air.
It seemed to be leaking out some sort of glowing reddish-brownish-bluish material.
It flickered and shuddered, like it was a picture on the screen of a glitchy computer.
It seemed… out of place, like it wasn’t meant to be there, like vegetables on a birthday cake.
Almost otherworldly, like a big fissure in between dimensions.
It called to Wilbur, like a song.
As he crept closer, he noticed that on the other side of the fissure, there was another land.
It was disoriented by the weird glowing stuff leaking out of it, but Wilbur could make out that it was a largely flat world.
He reached out and touched the stuff leaking out of it.
He couldn’t feel anything, apart from a slight numbing in his hand.
Odd, thought Wilbur as he took a step closer, and stuck his whole arm through the hole.
This would prove to be a big mistake.
Within about half a second, the glowy stuff leapt out of the fissure and engulfed Wilbur completely, and then pulled him into the crack.
Everything was red.
And then blue.
And then green.
And then a colour that has never been seen by human eyes.
The world was a mishmash of disoriented images and disembodied sounds.
His body rippled and twisted and stretched.
He watched as his arm grow, his hand kilometres away, before it retracted and drilled him in the face like a rogue soccer ball.
Everything flashed and scrunched up and roared all around him, until everything stopped.
CHAPTER SIX: ANOTHER LAND
Wilbur awoke yelling his head off.
He jumped up and looked down.
His body was back to normal.
Gone was the infinite kaleidoscope of weirdness, but the place Wilbur found himself in was possibly even more disturbing than that.
He was in a barren land with a completely grey sky.
The landscape was almost completely flat, with only a few small hills.
The ground was carpeted in some sort of wiry, beige grass that swayed in the wind like seaweed underwater.
The occasional tree dotted the sparse landscape, and Wilbur swore that he could see them moving out of the corner of his eye.
The wind rasped like a dehydrated snake.
It seemed like the definition of an unsettling music sting.
Not a big fan of unsettling music stings, Wilbur began to panic.
Where was he?
How had he gotten here?
Is this another horrible trick played by Miss Mann?
Eventually, Wilbur mustered up enough bravery to speak.
He was big for his age. He was strong.
He wrestled with Miss Mann once, and nearly won.
He liked squashing things smaller than him.
Things bigger than him were afraid of him.
“Show yourself!” He squeaked, highly disappointing himself.
He drew in a deep breath and yelled,
“I said, show yourself!!”
His voice echoed around the surrounding emptiness.
“Show yourself now! I know you’re there!! I know SOMETHING is there!”
Still nothing but the reply of his echo.
“Arrrghh!” He seethed in frustration.
He pulled huge clumps of grass out with his hands, and hurled it as far away as he could.
His outburst went on for quite a while, until he pulled up a clump of grass that had a creature attached to it.
The creature’s skin was like raw ginger, and in was shaped like a crab.
It hung there, staring at Wilbur, who was also staring in absolute shock.
The crab-root-plant thing hissed, and tried to pinch Wilbur with its claws.
Wilbur dropped it and and crumpled to the floor, unconscious once again.
CHAPTER SEVEN: TSK, TSK, TSK
Wilbur awoke to a rapid little clicking noise, like a mix of somebody rubbing their dry hands together and clicking their tongue.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Wilbur sat up and looked around.
It was evening, or whatever you would call it in this strange world, and the clouds were turning purple.
The crab-root-plant thing was gone too.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Wilbur looked behind himself to the source of the sound.
An enormous huntsman spider, about the size of a grand piano, its legs as thick as tree branches, was sitting sitting behind him, staring.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Wilbur screamed and jumped up. Movement and thought left him, and he just stood there, in a mixture of shock, confusion, and absolute fear.
Wilbur had squashed so many spiders and insects back at the orphanage that he lost count, but he guessed around a million and a half, and for a second he thought that the spider was here to punish him for what he did.
But this was no ordinary spider.
It wore four monocles that looked like they were rimmed with gold, a navy blue checked coat, and a bowler hat.
It had 6 legs that were firmly on the ground, and two others which were clutching some sort of staff or walking stick encrusted with crystals.
It also had a very glittery spark in its eyes.
Tsk, tsk, tsk, It said.
“What were you doing, you foolish delinquent, ripping up the grass like that?”
It had a very deep, manly voice, and spoke with almost an echo. “Well? Hmmm?”
Wilbur stared at it in horror for a few more seconds and then shook his head in disgust. He was imagining things.
He turned and picked up a large rock from the ground, and hefted it high above his head.
The spider did not panic, try to scuttle away, or show any fear whatsoever.
It just stared at him with a look that said, “You can’t be serious.”
Wilbur hurled the rock at the spider.
Within a split second, the spider raised one of its legs, and the moment the rock touched it, it shattered, sending chunks of rock flying everywhere.
Some of those chunks hit Wilbur, and he felt it loud and clear. That settled it. This was not a hallucination.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Bad child. Bad. Do not throw rocks at me.”
It jumped up and scuttled towards a large hole in the ground.
It paused and looked back up at Wilbur.
“Are you coming, or what?”
Wilbur reared back.
“What?! Nuh-uh. I am not following a spider wearing clothes into a gaping hole in the ground. Where does it even lead to?”
He tried to kick the spider, and succeeded, but the spider didn’t ever react.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The spider sighed, as if Wilbur hadn’t reached his expectations, and disappeared into the hole.
“W-wait!” Cried Wilbur.
He looked around at his surroundings again.
It was almost completely dark now, and the wind whistled softly through the grasses, creating a long, wheezy moan.
Something rustled in the grasses.
Wilbur spun around, expecting something to leap out onto him, but nothing happened.
A purring sound rang out. But not the sort of purring you would get from a domestic cat when you scratch its tummy in just the right way, but the sort of purring from a tiger that had just seen its prey take the bait of a trap without hesitation.
The grass rustled again.
“H-help!” Yelped Wilbur.
“Come. Tsk tsk tsk.” Whispered a voice as something grabbed him and yanked him down the hole.
CHAPTER EIGHT: MARGO
Wilbur looked around and found himself in a hollowed-out underground room.
It was actually rather spacious, with the ceiling being a good 2.5 metres high, and a nice, wide living space.
The walls (if there were any walls) were mostly obscured by bookshelves that were brimming with hardcovers, paperbacks and a few journals.
The ground was covered in a spongey carpet, which, under closer inspection, proved to be moss.
There was also the tunnel to the outside world, and another tunnel that presumably led to another room.
In the middle of the room, there were two long sofas that looked almost completely new.
In fact, everything looked freshly dusted and polished.
“Tsk tsk. Come. Sitsk. Sorry, sit.” Said the spider.
Wilbur cautiously checked under the couch cushions for something like a spring or something else that Miss Mann would put under there, but was surprised to find nothing.
“Tsk. My name is Margo Spyder.” Said the spider somewhat warmly.
“Your name is mango spider? What a stupid name.” Sniffed Wilbur.
Margo frowned. In one move, he leapt off the sofa he was on and scuttled over at alarming speed to Wilbur.
“My name is Margo Spyder. With a Y.”
Wilbur shrugged, trying desperately to pretend he wasn’t intimidated by the giant spider scowling at him, and failing.
“Suit yourself.”
Margo crawled back over to the sofa and buried his head in a book.
“Name’s Wilbur.” He added somewhat meekly.
Margo blinked.
“Um…Hey. How…did you make that rock explode?”
“The one that you…Tsk…threw at me?”
“Yep! That’s the one.”
Margo, without looking up from his book, grabbed his staff and tapped it on the ground twice.
Wilbur shot up a good 3 metres and banged his head on the ceiling.
“Woah! What? What just happened?!” Panicked Wilbur.
Margo tapped his stick another time, and Wilbur shrunk back to his original height.
“Woah.” He breathed, staring at Margo in amazement.
This creature possessed an awesome power.
“Hmmmm.” Droned Margo as he crawled into a tunnel to a seperate room.
Wilbur followed him, expecting another old fashioned room, but was instead completely blown away.
The room had white, concrete walls, and there were these strange moving paintings and gadgets and even a few test tubes and bubbling mixtures.
Wilbur, who was living in the victorian era, had no idea that they were computers.
Margo dashed over to one of the computers, typed a few commands in and frowned.
“Hmmm.” He muttered.
“The Arachnid Collective meeting is in 10 minutes.”
“The what?” Asked Wilbur.
Margo turned around and studied Wilbur for a while.
“You are…not an Arachnid. You must wait outside.”
Wilbur was confused.
“Where am I going? Why can’t I attend the meeting? Stupid Spider! Answer me!”
Margo tapped a button on the computer keyboard, and suddenly a bright flash lit up the entire room, and then subsided as quickly as it came.
CHAPTER NINE: ARACHNID COLLECTIVE
“What was that?!” Screamed Wilbur.
“Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk.” Clicked Margo, as if giggling.
“Are you laughing at me, eight-legs?!”
Wilbur followed Margo out of the room and looked around in shock.
Instead of the cosy living room that he came from, Wilbur was in a massive cavern, with theatrical chandeliers hanging from a bunch of stalactites.
In there middle there was a large round table with a number of spiders and a number of scorpions. (Not that Wilbur knew what scorpions were, having grown up in London)
They all started hissing in some language that was incomprehensible to any eavesdropping human child, much to the frustration of Wilbur, who was leaning against the door and still fuming that he couldn’t attend the meeting. It was just like back at the orphanage. Miss Mann never let him be in any of the meetings with fat officials in black coats where she kissed butts and pretended that she loved the orphans she treated so terribly.
But then again, she didn’t let any of the other kids be there either, but Wilbur didn’t care. They could stay in the orphanage for all he cared.
But at least Miss Mann spoke English, so Wilbur could eavesdrop and get all the information he needed.
But these bloody spiders and whatever the heck those things were (Wilbur had never heard of scorpions, let alone seen one)
were talking in their own language.
At least, that’s what he thought initially. He realised that the arachnid language was sort of like a hissy, mangled version of English.
He could barely understand it, but what Wilbur picked up chilled him to the bone.
“Margo…the…child…”
“Tsk tsk tsk…”
“Tasty yum-yum…”
“Must…eat…”
“…………”
Wilbur almost screamed in both rage and fear. That ruthless trickster! That damn spider was so kind to him at first…but he was actually trying to eat him!
Desperately, he rushed over to the computer.
On the screen it said, Teleport ready. Press flashing button to activate.
Having grown up an orphan, Wilbur had no idea how to read, but luckily there was a picture of a spider pressing a button and being teleported back to Margo’s place, so Wilbur knew more or less what to do.
He pressed the button and was whisked away, unknowingly running away from his destiny, his redemption and him being the saviour of an entire universe, for alas, the Arachnid Collective did not plan to eat Wilbur.
“Margo…Certain, you are, about the child?”
“Tsk tsk tsk. Yes, I am.”
“The flipped version, he is?”
“Tsk. Yes, he is. I am sure of it. We must not let…him…realise what his alternate is here, and we must also hide the truth from the child, otherwise he could run away, and all life will vanish.”
“I would never be able to taste a tasty yum yum fly ever again if I died!”
“Tsk tsk. Calm down.”
“Worried I still am though, about the child. Our only hope, he is.”
“Well, we can mull it over while we eat. Bring out the banquet of roasted flies!”
CHAPTER TEN: RUNAWAY
Wilbur shot out of the hole like a rocket, trying not to think about the monster he almost encountered earlier.
It was fully nighttime, or whatever you would call it in this ridiculous world full of giant man-eating bugs.
Wilbur was mainly used to squashing bugs, and he was quite shaken.
The moon was shaped like a massive splat of who-knows-what, and it softly glowed a greenish-yellowish colour as little bits of light dripped down onto the world below as if the splat-moon was melting.
The grass had seemed to grow with the moon, and it came up to his shoulders.
He ran as far away from the hole so when the spiders and bugs worked out that he had escaped, they wouldn’t know where he went.
When his breath ran out, Wilbur tried to crouch low into the grass, but it didn’t really help, so he decided to climb a tree.
Growing up in a ramshackle brick building, he did not have much to practice on, but he found it surprisingly easy.
Meanwhile, back at the hole, the Arachnid Collective had just finished their banquet of roasted flies and where heading their seperate ways.
“S-s-sayy, M-m-Margo, w-where is the ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-child?”
Margo’s grin disappeared like cupcakes at an elephant’s party.
Or, more relevantly, roasted flies at a spider meeting.
He sprinted to the magical teleporting room he came from, and sure enough, Wilbur was gone.
“TSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSKKKK!!!!!!” Yelled Margo in despair as he pounded the keyboard and teleported back to his den.
He turned the place upside down looking for Wilbur (Quite literally: He used magic to shift the gravity inside his house upwards)
but to no avail.
With no time to waste, Margo scuttled out of the hole and followed the trail of flattened grass that Wilbur had carelessly left in his wake.
At the same time, Wilbur began settling into his tree. It looked—and was— the easiest thing you could ever climb.
It was almost as if the tree wanted Wilbur to climb it.
“Well, that’s a first. At least something in this stupid place actually cares about me.” Sulked Wilbur.
And that was when the tree curled up its branches and swallowed him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: DARKNESS FALLS
“Let me out. Let me ouuut!” Wailed Wilbur, slightly muffled inside the tree.
The tree had made a cage of sorts around him, and all he could see was pitch black.
A nearby voice began cackling its head off.
It was very robotic and stiff, and made Wilbur shiver.
Mustering up all his courage, Wilbur yelled,
“Show yourself!”
The branches parted slightly with a creak, and light streamed into Wilbur’s little room.
A horrible, metal skeleton with wires crisscrossing all over it poked its head through one of the cracks and leered at Wilbur.
It twitched and gave sparks randomly, as if it was malfunctioning and completely unstable.
“I didn’t realise that capturing you would be so easy.” It said monotonously without moving its mouth.
Wilbur lurched back and started trying to wriggle through the gaps of the tree-cage.
He succeeded.
The metal skeleton watched Wilbur run away and sighed.
“What a shame. I was hoping more of a challenge. But no, you are just a pathetic, grotty child.”
It made a short, sharp whistle and a terrifying, mechanical creature appeared at its side. It was a metal skeleton with wires sticking out all over the place, like its master, but it was huge, about 2 metres tall, and it had very long, very thick arms that were about twice the length of its body with razor-sharp rusted talons.
It had a human-looking skull, but with gruesome-looking fangs instead of teeth.
The skeleton-man whistled again and pointed at Wilbur, and the skeleton-monster went berserk.
It lashed out with its fearsome claws, swiping at Wilbur, only just managing to lunge out of the way before getting sliced.
Eventually, Wilbur didn’t duck fast enough and was snatched up.
The monster opened its mouth and slowly lowered Wilbur down into the sparking depths of the beast’s metal belly.
“Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha.” Laughed the cyborg master.
If you could call it that.
Margo was still scuttling along the path of flattened grass when he heard roars, screams and monotonous laughing.
As he cleared a rolling hill, he froze.
There was a giant metal cyborg monster about to eat the child who could save the multiverse.
Margo bolted over and bodyslammed the creature, causing it to drop Wilbur and fly into a weird-looking nearby tree.
“Margo!” Said Wilbur, happy to see the giant spider for once.
“Tsk tsk. Idiot. Don’t you dare run away again.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Suddenly, the mechanical terror leapt and crash-tackled Margo.
And so a furious battle began.
Margo had eight legs, and had magic on his size, but the mech had those horrible claws and sharp teeth that could rip one of Margo’s legs off.
“Wilbur. Take out Grinder, the other metal skeleton. Its controling this thing—ugh!”
Grinder, for that was its name, recoiled at this and looked at Wilbur in alarm.
Wilbur stared at the metal skeleton and tried to look intimidating.
It was skinny and gangly, and Wilbur was big and strong.
It didn’t look so tough.
But it wasn’t finished yet.
It garbled malevolently and jumped into the air, slamming its foot on the ground like the world’s crankiest toddler.
A gaping crack appeared in the ground between Wilbur and grinder. It looked like it went down for miles.
“Jump. Wilbur.” Yelled Margo desperately as he was pummelled by the mechanical monstrosity.
“I can’t!” He called back. The rift was getting wider and wider. The more Wilbur hesitated, the bigger it seemed to get.
“GO!” Bellowed the spider.
Wilbur gritted his teeth and jumped.
He cleared the rift by a good half a metre and landed smack bang on Grinder.
Quick as a flash, Wilbur grabbed a handful of wires and ripped them out.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh…” Screamed the skeleton flatly as it fizzed, sparked and died.
The mechanical beast Margo was battling flipped onto its back and began throwing sparks and waving its limbs and claws in the air like a dying insect.
Margo threw a swift punch to its head, which then caved in and the beast stopped wriggling.
“Tsk tsk tsk tsk. You. Did. It. Wilbur.” Said the spider.
“No. We did it.”
And for the first time ever, Wilbur saw another person in his life as a friend.
CHAPTER TWELVE: HIM
A few minutes later, the entire Arachnid Collective had caught up with Margo.
One of them, a giant scorpion, in a green plaid suit, surveyed the scene.
“Hmmmmm. L-l-looks l-like w-w-we missed all the f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-fun.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Muttered Wilbur.
Margo turned to Wilbur.
“Tsk. It seems, Wilbur, that we owe you an apology. We kept the truth from you at first, because we were afraid that you would be daunted by the responsibility and run off.”
Wilbur snorted, but not angrily, more in amusement.
“Well, that didn’t work. I overheard a part of your conversation. I thought you were going to try to eat me…”
Wilbur’s voice trailed off as he looked around him in horror as he remembered what they said.
“You’re not, are you?!” He asked in panic.
“What?! No!” Cried the scorpion.
Wilbur calmed himself with logic. If they were going to eat him, now would be a perfect time, because he is tired, injured, and surrounded.
But still, he decided to watch his back around them.
“More to the point, what was THAT?!” He yelled, pointing at the smoking metal skeleton lying on the grass a few metres away.
The scorpion sighed and took a deep breath.
“That, my boy, was Grinder. Grinder is one of…his…mercenaries.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Asked Wilbur.
The Arachnids looked at eachother and nodded at eachother silently.
“‘He’ Is a demon who plans to destroy us and any other creature in the multiverse who opposes him.”
He let this sink in.
“Many years ago, we managed to defeat and corner him. But, being the extremely sore loser he is, he used massive amounts of black magic to vanish into the depths of the multiverse.
As a part of the magic that resides in everything, he began creating a rift in between our universe and your universe. Only then did we discover that there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of different universes.
“We also realised that the longer…he…was a part of the fundamentals of the multiverse, the more he gained control of it.
Already the rift has widened by about a metre, and we have noticed differences and distortion in the way our universe operates.
“We knew if we left this long enough he would come to control the entire multiverse, so we knew how to stop it, but we didn’t know how. Until we found a chink in his armour. Only one week ago, Margo here experienced a vision where he told us to give up and take cover, as the end was about to occur. But then he made a critical error. He said that no amount of magic would ever be able to stop him. But he revealed more than he realised. By saying that, we realised that he quite literally gave us the answer—only a non-magical being could stop him and save the multiverse. Unfortunately though, no creature in our universe is non-magical, so we knew that we somehow had to lure a non-magical creature from another universe. So we reached through and contacted you on a magical level, and lured you here.”
Margo felt a bit bad lying to Wilbur, but he knew it was for the best.
Wilbur paused as he digested what Margo had told him.
“Who is ‘him’? Does he have a name?”
There was a pause.
“Probably.” Piped up a bored-looking house spider at the back.
“But we don’t know it. His mercenaries just call him ‘His darkness.’
And it’s not like he’s introduced himself properly.”
“And…I’m supposed to defeat him? A freaking demon? All by myself?!” Spluttered Wilbur.
“No! Tsk tsk tsk. Of course not! You’ll have us.” Said Margo, gesturing around him at the spiders and scorpions.
“Uh…How many more…creepy guys like that weird robot guy does he have?”
The spiders shrugged with all four shoulders and the scorpions scratched their heads.
“We dunno.”
Wilbur sighed.
“Could you at least tell me you have a plan?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“It depends on wether or not you’ll get angry if we say we don’t.”
Wilbur sighed.
“Well, we do have something…” Began Margo.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BATTLE ROYALE
“CHARGE!” Bellowed Wilbur, holding an enchanted cutlass and leading a small group of spiders and scorpions (Including Margo) toward a looming fortress.
The fortress was an ashy black all over, with vibrant flashes of rainbow-coloured light leaking through the gaps in the brickwork.
Distorted, ugly disco music rang out, echoing about the hills.
It looked and sounded terrifying, and Wilbur was terrified, but he knew he would have to stay confident if it was to work.
The bored-looking house spider (Who actually looked quite nervous now) summoned a fireball and hurled it at the towering wall of the fortress.
The fireball slammed against the bricks, but unfortunately, it did not do anything more than to alert all the creatures inside they were under attack.
The terrible disco music stopped, and Wilbur heard a few glasses of who-knows-what smash to the floor.
There was silence.
Suddenly, right where the fireball had hit, a hatch swung open.
A yellow, reptilian eye on the end of a very long stalk poked out and gave the small group below a very dirty look.
The house spider threw another fireball and the creature disappeared.
For a few seconds, there was silence, and it was deafening.
Finally, a mid-sized section of the wall came crashing down and out came a crowd of strange and terrible creatures.
Wilbur and the Arachnids and the terrible creatures commenced with a battle that shook the land around them, scorched the grass underneath them and left bodies strewn over the battlefield.
Fireballs exploded like thunderclaps.
Lightning lit up the sky.
And Arachnids and creatures alike screamed in pain.
Amidst all the chaos, Wilbur managed to sneak past and into the fortress. It was dark and sweaty in there, and it reeked of some horrible drug or drink that the monsters were obviously binging on. Looking back to the battlefield, he noticed that a few of the enemies looked unsteady and a bit wobbly.
Something in that castle made Wilbur’s heartbeat quicken, and he felt like screaming his head off. He felt flustered, desperate and angry all at the same time.
There was something entirely unnatural happening in that fortress.
He rounded a corner, and this time he actually did scream.
There was a big, fat floating ball about the size of a melon just sitting there, slowly bobbing up and down. It had stalks growing all over it with little growths that looked like mould on the end of them, and Wilbur had nearly run smack bang right into it.
At the sound of Wilbur’s scream, it spun around.
It had one humongous eyeball at the centre of its face, and that was it.
Wilbur quickly flattened himself against the wall so that it wouldn’t see him.
But then, a very peculiar thing happened.
It closed its eye, but when it opened it again, the eyeball had turned into a nasty, hooked nose!
It sniffed the air like a bloodhound.
Wilbur’s heart was almost crawling up his throat. Probably the most scary feeling of all was being in the most pathetic hiding spot and knowing that a monster is trying to find you.
Eventually, it found him.
Wilbur yelped and punched the monster right in the eye/nose, who screeched and reeled back.
Wilbur shoved past in and bolted down the corridor…
Causing the floor to fall down beneath his feet and sending him plunging down, down, into darkness.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: FINALE
When Wilbur came to, he was chained by the wrists and ankles to what felt like a cold, grotty piece of metal.
He was in a dark, damp and humid room, completely surrounded by dark red bricks.
Wilbur looked up and, lo and behold, was the fissure.
In the time that had passed it seemed like it had grown and changed colour, like an open cut weeping and swollen with infections.
The demon was coming closer and closer to ultimate domination.
“Master-r-r-r, I have brought-t-t you the child-d-d-d.” Garbled the voice of that strange, ball-like creature with the multi-use eye.
The fissure rumbled, hissed, and spat like some especially rude sausages frying in a pan.
The swirling colours inside it formed something that could almost be called a face.
It had two pure red eyes, and a wide, bloody mouth with jagged, mismatched teeth.
“Gooooooood…” It said. Its voice was extremely loud, and filled the air all around it like thunderclaps.
Wilbur tried to cover his ears, but he couldn’t because he in chains.
“Vvvvery good. Now, get lost.” The floating ball quickly floated out. It was evident it was just as terrified of the demon as Wilbur was.
Although…there was something familiar about its voice.
Had he heard it before?
In my nightmares, maybe. Thought Wilbur sullenly.
The face in the fissure cackled, and everything around it was engulfed in blinding white light.
Suddenly, Wilbur was standing up. His chains had simply disappeared.
The fissure had gone a deep inky black, like it was glowing darkness.
Somewhere in the distance, Wilbur could hear a mechanical humming sound.
Other than himself, the weird humming sound and the silhouette of the fissure, Wilbur was completely alone in a void of white nothingness.
At the sound of footsteps he jerked up, and scanned the surrounding area.
The fissure had morphed into a figure, still silhouetted.
It was short, about the same size and stature of Wilbur.
It stopped.
The darkness of the silhouette dissolved, and Wilbur reared back in shock, for the person standing right in front of him was…
Himself.
It was exactly the same as Wilbur in every shape and from, except that his irises (the colourful bit of the eye) were a deep, burning, crimson red, and it wore elegant, black robes instead of tattered, unwashed clothes that probably used to be flour sacks.
Wilbur’s breath was whisked away from him.
“What…Are…You?” Wilbur managed to gasp out in horror.
“I AM you.” Responded the demon simply.
“I am the mirrored version of yourself. Unlike you, I grew up in a wealthy mansion, with parents who trained me to be the marvellous creature I am now. I grew up cherished, and I did not have to do a single thing for myself.”
Wilbur was screaming inside his head.
Why did THIS horrible thing get loved and cherished? Why not HIM?! All HE got to do was constantly work, work, work, be yelled at, beaten, starved and ordered to do more work.
“But,” Continued the demon, “You still have a chance. I am so generous, in fact, another by-product of my upbringing, that I am giving one to you.”
He flicked his hand and out of the void, a door appeared.
It didn’t seem to have any description to apply to it, it was just a door, like it was an abstract, half-forgotten thought in somebody’s mind.
Wilbur found himself inching closer and closer.
“Open it.” Hissed the demon.
Wilbur got ever closer until the tip of his nose was brushing against the door.
“I said OPEN IT!!” Screeched the demon, shivering a little.
Wilbur opened it, and inside was one of the most delighting sights Wilbur had ever seen in his life.
There was a gleaming kitchen with ornaments, flowers and the sweet smell of some kind of delicious meal wafting through it.
There were no bloody knives.
No grot.
No rats scampering about the place licking the bloody knives.
It was perfect.
And no ugly old boot shuffling around in there tapping a rolling pin against her hand like she wanted to murder someone with it.
And then it got even better.
“Wilbur!” Called a rather pretty woman. “Dinner time!”
That must be my mother. Thought Wilbur without even realising it.
He had fallen into a happy, almost thoughtless stupor.
“Wilbur!” Cried a rather handsome man, walking into the kitchen.
That must be my father. Thought Wilbur again.
He smiled and laughed softly, descending deeper and deeper into the illusion.
“Where is that boy?” Asked Wilbur’s mother.
The father shrugged. “Perhaps he’s upstairs playing with his toys.”
Upstairs! Toys! Wilbur almost fainted with delight.
It was almost too perfect to be true.
And this was when Wilbur snapped out of it and realised that it was.
“NO!” Yelled Wilbur, eyes wide in panic.
“This is wrong. It can’t be real!”
Wilbur turned around to see the demon standing there with its eyes shut and holding out its hand. A funny-looking trail of mist was streaming out of it. Wilbur followed it with his eyes. The mist expanded and coloured itself in to create the pictures that made up the scene before him.
Wilbur, beyond words by now, exclaimed in rage and slammed the door shut, catching the demon’s fingers in it.
The demon made a noise louder than Wilbur had ever thought possible, and began making the most horrific, inhuman, rasping, strangled screeches as it writhed around on the floor.
Aha! Though Wilbur.
If I can hurt it by slamming its fingers in the door, then I must be able to destroy it!
Just as it began to stand up, Wilbur crash-tackled it to the ground.
And so, a furious brawl began.
They rolled around on the ground, punching and strangling eachother.
The doorway that Wilbur had almost been lured into no longer showed a lovely kitchen and loving parents, but the edge of a charred cliff where a sea of lava churned beneath it.
That was the world Wilbur had almost stepped into.
As Wilbur was realising this, the demon shoved Wilbur over and onto the edge of the crumbling cliff.
“Goodbye, Multiverse’s last hope.” Growled the demon, before bursting out into shrieks of hysterical laughter.
As it reached through the doorway to close the portal, Wilbur saw his last chance.
He grabbed the demon’s arm, yanked it through the doorway and spun it toward the cliff.
It stood there wobbling for a few seconds, teetering on the edge of life and death.
Yes…YES! Thought Wilbur.
But no.
The demon balanced itself back over.
“Haha. Whew! I have to admit you almost had the jump on me there for a sec. Nice try. But FUTILE.” Snarled the demon.
And with that, the overhang of cliff that the demon was standing on promptly crumbled and dropped him into the churning sea of molten rock below him.
The demon shrieked in fury as it fell into the lava and immediately started melting.
It formed scaly, dragon-like wings and began flapping with all its might, but the lava was stickier than superglue, and it held the demon tight.
The demon continued to morph into an impossible amount of people, creatures and monsters, in a blind rage denying that it had been outwitted.
It turned into a giant troll-looking creature with tiny wings on its head, a dinosaur with two, giant gnashing heads, all the while shrieking and bellowing and roaring with all its might.
Eventually, when the noise subsided and the demon sunk down into the lava, Wilbur knew that it was finally defeated.
EPILOGUE
Wilbur sped across the pavement of a street in 19th century London, bursting with excitement.
He passed all the landmarks he had stared at, miserably looking out the window of his room in the orphanage.
“Huff…Tsk tsk…Puff…Tsk tsk…” Panted Margo, tiring slightly under the weight of Wilbur on his back.
“You…Really…Need…To…Go…On…A…Diet. Tssssk.” Gasped Margo as they screeched to a halt at their destination.
“Oh, shush.” Muttered Wilbur playfully.
A sign above them read, “OR HANAGE.”
“Or hanage?” Said Margo incredulously.
“Somebody’s taken the P! Wow, it feels like ages I haven’t been here.”
They walked up the steps, which Margo deemed “Unworthy for a spider to use” after he tumbled down them a few times and simply jumped up and over them and crashed through the doors.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Roared the unmistakable voice of Miss Mann.
Then she saw the giant spider standing amongst the remains of her door.
“AAAAUUUGGGHHHH!!”
Then she noticed Wilbur standing next to it.
“You…” She said.
“Uh-oh.” Muttered Wilbur to Margo. “Here it comes.”
“YOU!!! HAVE!!! MISSED!! ALL!! YOUR!! CHORES!!!!” Bellowed Miss Mann.
“I WANT YOU TO DO ALL OF THE CHORES YOU MISSED IN UNDER TWO HOURS!!! GET TO WOOOOORKK!!!!!!”
She screamed.
“Tsk tsk. She’s worse than you said.” Whispered Margo to Wilbur.
And with that, he leapt over to Miss Mann and pinned her to the ground.
By now, a great number of children had gathered around and were cheering as the spider lifted the bulky Miss Mann above his head, who began parading her around like she was a trophy and Margo had come first place in some gruelling competition.
“PUT ME DOOOOOOWN!” Howled the old hag.
With that, Margo promptly dropped her head-first into a chamberpot.
All the children cheered loudly, truly happy and free for the first time in their lives.
Wilbur chuckled gleefully at this old memory.
He had a long, grey flowing beard now, and lived in a grand old home.
A rather large brown spider, a huntsman to be exact, crawled across the ceiling.
It descended down from the ceiling with a trail of silk.
It landed on his hand.
Wilbur looked down at it and smiled.
The End.
(∩🌔 ͜ʖ🌔)⊃━☆ﾟ.*